


The Alpha behind the Crown

by cryme_anocean



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alpha Ian Gallagher, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon Typical Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence, Duke Ian, King Mickey - Freeform, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mpreg, Omega Mickey Milkovich, Omega Verse, Royalty, Sexual Content, canon typical child abuse and neglect
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-25 04:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12027837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryme_anocean/pseuds/cryme_anocean
Summary: The issue with a disguise is that is has to be taken off. King Mickey's entire life depends on a perfect cover and a well-kept secret. But he's about to discover exactly why you can't keep them forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know this has been a long time coming but read through these just this once. You're gonna miss some important stuff if you don't.  
> First: ages  
> Jaime-30, Iggy-29, Joey-25, Colin-23, Mickey-20, Mandy-17  
> Fiona-23, Lip-19, Ian-18, Debbie-14, Carl-13, Liam-3  
> The next really important thing to keep in mind. OMEGAS ARE NOT DISCRIMINATED AGAINST. Male omegas are the only ones who experience any type of discrimination.  
> TW for mild mentions of child abuse  
> Now onto some more super important stuff.  
> THIS COULD NOT EXIST WITHOUT MY LOVELY BETAS  
> These two wonderful humans have helped me through the tough part of kick-starting this thing from an idea to an actual story. They're the whole reason you're even here reading this right now! Anyway!  
> A huge thank you to [Jack](https://miilkovichh.tumblr.com/) and [Mican](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mican/pseuds/Mican)  
> Much love to both of you! And now onto what you're actually here for.

Mickey is thirteen when he wakes to intense pain. His limbs ache and his asshole throbs as if it’s desperately trying to pull something, anything inside. He thrashes and the sheets tangle around his ankles as he soaks the bed with his own slick and sweat. It’s the most uncomfortable/intense feeling Mickey has ever experienced. At the time, he doesn’t realize what it means. He doesn’t realize that he’s in heat or that he’s presenting as an omega. All he can think about is his gapingly open hole and the unbearable heat that leaves him trembling.   
  
After what feels like hours of twisting and turning on his bed, two Royal Guards enter his room with masks and briskly escort him to the tower. They have him attempt to walk but he falls onto the cobblestone walkway. He writhes as one of the guards sweeps him up and carries him, his cool hands welcome on his hot body. When they reach the tower, he is carelessly tossed onto the bed and the door is locked tightly behind him.   
  
The burning persists for three more days or so he is told, his torment seemingly never-ending. The sheets on the bed are scratchy and scrape against his sensitive skin so he ends up on the cool tiled floor. There is a pitcher of water on a windowsill that never seems to run out no matter how many times Mickey drinks from it and every day he receives three meals through a tiny latch in the large metal door. He can’t remember eating them, but every day the trays are empty and replaced with new ones come meal time.   
  
Mickey spends those three days fucking himself senseless with his fingers, desperately trying to reach a climax just out of his grasp. The first night he spends desperately looking for something to fill himself with but there’s nothing. His wrists ache but the pain he feels at being empty is worse so he fights through it and feverishly fucks himself.   
  
At the end of the three days, Mickey is sweaty, smelly, and achy. The guards that had been posted outside his door escort him to his father’s throne room immediately. At this point, Mickey’s thoughts have caught up with Mickey’s actions. The realization that he is, indeed, an omega doesn’t hit him. It doesn’t feel like a cargo train trying to ram through his chest. It just kind of sits there in his mind, nagging and tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He has a sinking feeling that he knows what this means, vaguely recalling the horror stories his father would tell him and his siblings at bedtime.  
  
It’s kinda… scary. And don’t ask him to ever say that shit out loud because even though he’s only 13 he’s still a fucking man, for fucks sake. But he’s scared. His brothers are all gone, even Colin who just turned 16, off fighting some great war that his father has started over a disrespectful prince. And since they all decided to become Royal Knights, Mickey is stuck being king. But now that he’s an omega… well who knows?  
  
King Taras, Terry to his friends, sits on his throne and sneers down at Mickey. His disgust is palpable. He waves the guards away with a flick of his wrist as he stands and approaches his son. His face is set in a hard line when he says, “What trouble you cause me, Mykhailo.” Ah yes, the typical tone of disappointment. Mickey is familiar with this. “How am I supposed to let you run this country when you are an omega? You know what this means for our family!? Exile! That’s what it fucking means.” The buzzing and confusion he felt hours previous is gone, Mickey of course knows what it means.  
  
When the Kingdom of Ukraine broke off from the Kingdom of Russia, the people chose the Kozel family to rule. King Alexsander and Queen Olena were the Duke and Duchess of their small province so, to the people, it made sense they would be the ones to rule. The Kozel family ruled for twenty years before the last king, King Artem, had only one son: an omega. Because he had still had an heir, regardless of his gender, he was allowed to give the crown over.   
  
When King Artem passed, the omega took the throne and systematically destroyed the country. Ukraine, once a kingdom of prosperity and wealth, was devastated. The omega, fueled by his own agenda, entered unnecessary wars with kingdoms he claimed treated his gender unfairly and sucked his own kingdom dry of all its resources. War after war the omega instigated and once he had finally drained Ukraine to next to nothing, God punished the kingdom by sending a drought. No food was grown and the people starved. Year after year starvation ravaged the country and the omega did nothing to help his people, choosing instead to hide in his castle unable to face the people he sentenced to painful death.  
  
Once the king was found dead, a new royal family took over. But they too were cursed with only an omega heir--now seen as a bad omen--so the people demanded they step down and hand the kingdom over to a more suitable heir. From then on, every time a royal family was bestowed with an omega heir they were forced into exile. The people believed it to be a divine sign from God that the family had become corrupt.  
  
Mickey’s never had a reason to give that story a second thought before. Sure his parents told him, warning him what could happen if their family bore an omega son, but it wasn’t something he ever thought would happen to him. All his brothers were alphas, why would he expect to present as an omega? Terry continues screaming about how Mickey has ruined everything but Mickey isn’t listening, caught up in how deeply unfair his life has become.   
  
Terry furiously stomps over to the door and pulls it open, “Get my sons!” He demands of the guard stationed outside his door.  
  
“Sir that would be impossible-”  
  
“Oh it would be impossible would it? It’s going to be fucking impossible for you to keep your head if you don’t get my sons here this fucking instant!” He slams the door and turns back to Mickey, arms crossed angrily, his rage barely contained. “I should have known you’d be the biggest disappointment out of all you fuckers.” He grumbles. Mickey doesn’t know what to say back to that, so he wisely says nothing.  
  
"Answer me when I speak to you, boy!" Mickey is smart and knows what it means when his father dissolves into a fit of rage. He ducks at the last second as Terry's hand connects with the stone wall behind Mickey's head. He licks his lips nervously as blood stains his father's split knuckles.   
  
Terry seems to be shaking with fury. "You'll pay for that Mykhailo" Luckily, Terry doesn't get a chance. The guard he'd sent off comes back with a quiet and hesitant knock on the door. Terry glares darkly at Mickey as he pulls it open, "What?" He demands.  
  
"Uh, sir... It would appear that your sons arrived last night from the battlefield. They were out at the training grounds when I found them. They are getting dressed and will meet you in the dining hall," Terry glowers at him, "Y-Your Grace!" The guard tacks on quickly. Mickey frowns but slips out of the room with the guard who motions for him to follow. 

 

In a few short minutes Mickey is sandwiched between Iggy and Colin at their long oak dining table. Jaime and Tony sit to Iggy's right and even Mandy sits to Colin's left while Terry sits at the head, glaring at them. Mickey can’t remember the last time they had a family meeting.   
  
“Mickey is an omega.” Terry says finally.  
  
Chaos ensues. His brothers jump to their feet, shouting and pointing furiously but Mickey can’t make out exactly what they’re saying. Mandy, only ten looks at him sympathetically and Mickey desperately wants to punch something.   
  
“Alright sit the fuck down!” Terry shouts and they all slowly stop, turning to stare at Mickey like he has two heads. “I know this looks bad. But I have a plan, no thanks to you good for nothing shits.” His brothers slowly sit down and Terry continues, “Mickey will still be king. I know, it isn’t ideal, but you fuckers want to be knights--and frankly are too stupid to rule--so Mickey is the only fucking option. So here’s the deal. You four will become Mickey’s personal guards once he takes over. I have spoken with our medic and she has agreed to make an elixir for him to suppress his natural scent and heats. Most importantly, Mickey will marry an omega. The council will want a queen and an heir. So Jaime, my boy! You will have the honor of fucking Mickey’s wife!” Terry says this laughing as if it is the greatest gift he could give one of his sons. It makes Mickey frown.   
  
“Oh, and Mickey?” It is the first time Terry is addressing him since his brothers entered the chamber. He turns to look at his father, “If you ever fuck an alpha, mate an alpha…  _breed_ ,” the word must taste like acid on his tongue, “you will ruin this for all of us.”

 

* * *

 

Mickey is twenty when his father passes and the crown is handed to him. The council graciously gives him a week to get acclimated to being king before they force him to endure an endless meeting.  
  
“Please rise for King Mykhailo Milkovich.” Iggy enters the room by his side. They are meeting in what has come to be known as the council room. It consists of a large, circular table with eleven tall oak wood chairs. There are ten old betas sitting, well standing, around the table so Mickey makes his way to the only empty chair.   
  
The chair Mickey takes a seat in, along with all the other chairs, has his royal family crest carved into the back painted in gold. Mickey thinks it’s overkill but keeps his mouth shut.   
  
“King Mykhailo,” Nikola, the leader of the council, greets him as they all sit down. Mickey nods to him once knowing the old man has more to say than just that. “We started without you, I hope you don’t mind.” His voice has some kind of lilt to it, like he’s singing rather than speaking.   
  
“No, honestly I’d rather get the fuck outta here as fast as possible so you ladies can chit chat as much as you want without me.” Nikola looks pleased and smiles. “’S long as you old fucks weren’t talkin about how ta get rid of me.” He swipes his thumb across his nose a couple of times as the men look affronted before they dissolve into old people laughter. You know the kind, the soft chuckling when you say something mildly offensive.   
  
“Of course not, Your Grace.” Gleb intervenes and it seems like he’s about to steer the conversation in another direction. “We were just discussing matters you need not concern yourself with this early on in your rule. We want this transition to be as easy for you as possible, so we are taking care of the mundane things.” He seems like he thinks Mickey really needs assurance they aren’t conspiring against him. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.   
  
Nikola shoots Gleb a glare and takes back the reins of the room, “Sir, before we started anything we thought it to be important that we broach this subject.” Mickey knows exactly what he’s talking about. “We want to know when you are planning to… take a wife.” Nikola asks very gently but Mickey knows the intent behind the question. He’s about to get a deadline.  
  
He shrugs and glances at Iggy who is standing guard at the door. His brother’s face betrays nothing as he looks back at him steadily. Mickey wets his lips, “Wasn’t really at the top of my to-do list, been kinda busy being king an’ shit in case you haven’t noticed.”   
  
“And sir we take your dedication to this country  _very_  seriously.” Nikola assures him with a nod, “But you know the people need a queen,”  _and an heir_  goes unspoken as silence hangs in the room. Mickey swallows and nods. “So… we were just thinking about a sufficient timeline, to keep the people satisfied.” And now they’re getting somewhere.   
  
“What’re we talkin here?” He asks. Mickey isn’t going to say he’s nervous, because he’s not. He’s got no problem marrying an omega to save face, he’s had something like seven years to come to terms with it. He just knows they’re getting into “discovery” territory. This is where it could all go to shit.   
  
“Nothing unreasonable, Your Grace. The council feels that six months is a good amount of time to find an omega and mate. Should you start searching for a suitable wife today, we believe you will have no trouble at all in that amount of time.”  _Yeah, if I start looking fuckin today_. Mickey swipes at his nose with his thumb again as he eyes Nikola. The man, along with the rest of the council, is looking at him expectantly.  
  
“Yeah, a’ight, fine. Can we get down to some actual business now?”   
  
Nikola’s smile blossoms into a full-blown grin, “Certainly, sir.”

 

* * *

 

That night at dinner, they brainstorm. Mickey, Mandy, Iggy, Colin, Jaime, and Tony sit at the table, the thick oak doors locked, and discuss a plan of action.  
  
“Why are you guys acting like you’ve never seen a king look for a mate before?” Mandy demands, her eyes narrowing at them. “Do you know how many stupid fuckin balls Dad made me go to? He was desperate to marry me off. Why are we actin like we have ta come up with some elaborate scheme for Mickey to get married? Just throw a fuckin party and the girls will come to us.” Mandy slumps back against her chair and crosses her arms as if she’s daring any one of them to disagree with her.   
  
Mickey chews his lip as Iggy and Jaime exchange a look. “Actually, that’s a good idea.” Iggy says and he looks to Mickey for conformation. “Would you be okay with that, little man?” Mickey shoots him a deathly glare.   
  
“Don’t fuckin call me that.” He mumbles but then nods because that’s so much easier. It’s a little risky, but hopefully he’ll find the right girl. A once and done rather than the weird  _invite every omega individually_ shit Colin was trying to pass off.   
  
“Okay great. Now we just gotta figure out who we’re inviting.” Joey chimes in and leans forward, resting his head on his hands.   
  
“Well Great Britain for sure.” Mandy says as if it’s obvious, “They’re the strongest country in the world right now. It would be stupid not to try and bring our two countries together.” Mickey narrows his eyes at her. “What?” She looks at their incredulous faces, “I know politics! Jesus, just because I’m a girl.” She mumbles to herself but Joey reaches over Mickey and smacks her on the arm.   
  
“Hey! Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain!” He scolds and Mickey snickers behind his hand. She glares and punches his arm.   
  
“Okay, okay, Great Britain. Who else?” Iggy asks as he jots the names down on a scroll.  
  
“Italy… because the girls are hot as fuck.” Jaime says and Mickey guesses he should take the guy’s wishes into consideration seeing as this girl is really for him.   
  
“If we’re looking for hot girls I say Germany.” Joey chimes in and Mickey glares at him.  
  
“Yeah no one gives a fuck what you think, shithead.” Joey flips him off and Mickey just laughs.   
  
“You guys are fucked, have you  _seen_  the chicks from Greece?” Colin cries and everyone turns to look at him. He looks shy for a minute then, “What? Everyone else was making suggestions so I thought-”  
  
“What about you Mick?” Mandy asks, cutting him off, “This  _is_  your wife we’re talking about.”  
  
Mickey looks confused, “What about me?”  
  
“Who do you want to invite?” Mickey hasn’t really thought about that. He’s never left the kingdom like his brothers have but he remembers when he was sixteen and he escaped from the castle for a couple of hours. He wandered down into the market place, hoping it would be harder for the guards to find him, when he literally stumbled into a foreigner. The guy was incredibly handsome, fiery red hair and green eyes. He was tall and buff, a soldier he’d told Mickey. Mickey had spent those two hours of freedom just following him around, asking him what it was like to leave his country and fight. The guy had never told him his name but he did tell him where he was from.  
  
“Ireland.” He stumbles out, guilty he remembered something so stupid at a time like this. No one says anything and Iggy just writes it down as they go on bantering. But for the rest of the afternoon Mickey can’t get rid of the guilt tugging at his gut.

 

* * *

 

The party has been going on for about an hour now but Mickey hasn’t left the punch bowl once. He snuck a flask full of vodka into his pocket before it started but now he knows why they don’t serve alcohol at these things. Mickey is verging on tipsy. Most of the liquor in his flask is gone and so is the sparkling orange-pineapple punch Mandy chose. It’s a good way to avoid talking with the omegas he invited, he supposes, but he knows he’ll have to face them eventually. Thing is, he’d much rather do that drunk.   
  
“Can you move?” Mickey turns, albeit clumsily, to see a fiery redhead glaring down at him, arms crossed. Mickey blinks rapidly, confused. Who the hell is this?  
  
“Uh,” He replies lamely and Red is looking at him expectantly so Mickey isn’t sure what he wants him to say, “What?”  
  
“Jeez, you’ve been hogging the punch since this ball started and I’m dying of thirst so can you just move so I can get a drink?” Red doesn’t actually wait for him to respond as he shoulders passed him and picks up an unused plastic cup. Mickey watches him stupidly. No one except Mandy actually talks to him like this.   
  
It makes him feel alive. He hasn’t really lived his whole life, everyone tiptoeing around him like he’s fragile and this guy just walked right into him. He slides his tongue over his top teeth.   
  
“Do…” He tries to start but he’s almost afraid to ruin it, “Do you not know who I am?”   
  
Red shoots him an annoyed look over his shoulder, finishes scooping two glasses of punch, and turns back so Mickey can see the full effect of his eye roll, “Really? You’re going to pull that card at a party full of royals? Do you not know who  _I_  am?”   
  
Mickey shakes his head, dumbly shocked into silence. Red huffs in annoyance, “So why the fuck would I know who you are?” Mickey thinks about it. That’s a good question. Mickey just assumed that everyone knew him because it was  _his_  party after all. But then again, he’d only been king for a few weeks and it wasn’t like they’d had time to send out his portrait or anything.  
  
“Uh… I just… I’m kinda…” Luckily, Mandy saves him from his embarrassment when she storms up to him and grips his bicep. She’s glaring at him fiercely and Mickey knows this is about his disappearing act.   
  
“Jeez Mickey! Iggy and Joey have been looking for you for the last fuckin hour, you douchebag.” Mandy catches a glimpse of the flask he’s clutching in his right hand and groans. “Oh my God! Why do you have to make everything so difficult! You can’t drink, you piece of shit! You’re king now!” She starts tugging on him to follow her as Red’s nasty expression slips into something of recognized shock.  
  
His mouth parts in a silent “oh” and Mickey knows he’s about to apologize. “Well gosh,” He grounds out and Mickey is watching him carefully, “the least you could do for making me dehydrated is talk to my sister.”   
  
Mickey licks his lips and swipes nervously at his nose, “Uh… what?”  
  
Red looks at him carefully, “You know how to form an actual sentence?” He asks and Mandy looks affronted. Mickey reaches out and grips her arm, knowing she’s ready to hand this alpha his ass—partly because Mickey is the king and he needs to show some respect god dammit, but also because Mickey is still an omega and an alpha picking on her brother isn’t going to go over easily.  
  
“I can speak.” Mickey says rather idiotically. Mandy stares at him like he’s grown two heads. “I can—who’s your sister?” He asks.  
  
Red nods over to a pretty brunette in amidnight blue ball gown. Her hair is swept up into some elegant up-do and she’s laughing with another man. Mickey doesn’t recognize her. “Fiona Gallagher.” When Mickey doesn’t react to that Red tries a different approach, “Duchess of Ireland?” Realization dawns on Mickey.   
  
The boy in front of him is Irish. Oh, of course he is. The red hair, the green eyes. He reminds Mickey a lot of the soldier he’d met when he was a teenager, just taller. Mickey presses his lips together. “I’ll talk to her.” He promises Red.  
  
He pushes one of the cups of punch toward Mickey, “Take this to her.” He instructs Mickey before he’s off, disappearing into the crowd.   
  
Mandy looks at him, “What the fuck was that?” She asks. He shrugs and heads toward the brunette.  
  
Mickey realizes, rather belatedly, that he has no idea what he’s going to say to Fiona. He’s never actually met another omega before. Well, his mother, but she died when he was so young he can’t even remember her. He wonders if she’ll be able to tell instantly, if he’ll be caught and executed for trying something like this. Mickey licks his lips nervously as Fiona and the man she’s standing next to turn to him.  
  
“Ms. Gallagher?” He asks, even though he knows exactly who she is. Fiona glances at the man at her side and nods. “I heard you were thirsty.” He holds out the punch Red had shoved at him.   
  
Fiona takes the offered punch and smiles down at it. “You’re the king, right?” She asks him and he thinks he probably should have introduced himself before offering her a drink.  
  
“Yeah, that’s me. King Mykhailo.” He nods. Fiona doesn’t say anything else and Mickey wonders if the silence is as awkward as it feels.  
  
“I’m glad you said it first,” She finally confesses.  
  
He looks at her, confused, “What?”  
  
Fiona smirks a little and Mickey now can kind of see the family resemblance between this girl and Red. She’s definitely older, probably older than Mickey too but he doesn’t mind. That puts her at just the right age for Jaime who’s at the ripe old age of thirty. “I’m glad you said your name first. I had no idea how to pronounce it.”   
  
Mickey snorts, “Thanks for not butchering the fuck out of it, then. You can just call me Mickey. My family does anyway.”   
  
She raises her eyebrows, “Mickey? At least… Mykhailo?” She tries the name out on her tongue. Mickey laughs as she butchers his name anyway, “sounds exotic.” She finishes over him but still glares.   
  
“Mykhailo,” He repeats, slower this time, and she takes a sip of the punch he brought her. Mickey feels awkward without anything to occupy his hands, so he shoves them into his pockets. “Yeah, my little sister couldn’t pronounce my name. She called me Mickey once and it just kinda stuck.”   
  
Fiona nods, “Yeah, the princess. You have a lot of fucking siblings though, don’t you?” She asks and Mickey nods. She hums thoughtfully, “Yeah, me too.”  
  
“Yeah, I met one of ‘em.” He says with sharp chuckle. She looks at him curiously. “Uh… I didn’t actually get his name. Redhead? Or maybe they’re all redheads and that was super fuckin unhelpful.”   
  
Fiona laughs, “Oh, Ian. He was supposed to be getting me a drink. I was wonderin how the hell you ended up bringing it to me.” She smiles, “I hope he wasn’t a dick. He’s never liked me dating alphas and shit.” She shrugs and Mickey feels, for the first time in his life, an urge to correct her assumption of his gender.   
  
“I like you.” He says suddenly and Fiona looks at him like he should be embarrassed by that confession but he doesn’t feel embarrassed, perhaps because they’re both omegas. “Do you want to stay here for a couple months?”   
  
Fiona blinks at him, surprised. Her eyebrows furrow, “What?”   
  
“Wait, I’m doing this in the wrong order.” He shakes his head at himself and tries again, “Do you want to get out of here?” Now she looks insulted. “Not like that!” He rushes and  _god_  the idea of fucking her makes his skin crawl.   
  
“Uh…” She looks around and suddenly Red— _Ian_ —is at her side. He looks at Mickey accusingly but before he can say anything she grabs his bicep. “Where?”   
  
“Just the gardens. I gotta… I wanna talk to you and shit.”  Which isn’t not true but it isn’t true either. At least, not in the way she’s thinking.  
  
Fiona nods and looks over at Ian, “Come with me. But just chill. You’re always so intense when I’m with an alpha.” Ian glares down at her and shoves her gently but Mickey can tell they’re close, kinda like him and Mandy.   
  
He weaves them through the clumps of girls and their Watches—the alpha in their family they choose to accompany them when they meet with prospective mates—to the open door in the back of the ballroom. Mickey licks his bottom lip nervously as he hears Ian and Fiona whispering to each other as they follow him. Fuck it, he decides as he pushes through the doorway and out into the open air. Behind him, Fiona goes silent in the middle of her sentence. She reaches out and grabs his wrist. They’re only on the patio and this isn’t where Mickey wants to have this conversation but when he turns to look at Fiona, he sees in her face that she knows. He swallows thickly, “Let’s get to the garden.” He says and she just nods. Ian seems to be oblivious as to what the hell they’re talking about.   
  
The walk from there is silent. Ian tries to ask Fiona to tell him what’s the matter but she just bumps him with her shoulder to shut him up. When Mickey stops for the second time, they’re in a little of the garden where Mickey snuck off to smoke when he was younger. There is a small white bench next to large bushes of roses but that’s it. It’s the simplest area of the royal garden.   
  
Mickey feels dread fill his body like liquid lead, spreading through his body and making his mouth dry. It’s not Fiona that has him so unnerved. He likes her. She’s nice and he gets along with her. It’s just that he doesn’t talk about being…  _it_. He hasn’t said the word since his father beat it into him that he’s a disgrace. The idea of telling someone else, someone not in the family makes him sick.   
  
Mickey looks nervously at Ian and Fiona seems to get it, “Ian, can you give us some space.” He looks like he’s about to protest but she glares at him, “I’m older than you, you know. So will you back off for a damn second?” He seems to pout as he slinks off. Mickey’s eyes linger for a second too long. Fiona turns to look at him once Ian is out of ear shot. “So… You’re an omega?”   
  
Mickey’s mouth is full of cotton so he nods. “Why are you pretending to be an alpha?” She asks again. Mickey doesn’t want to go into it, so he doesn’t answer. She seems to get that. “Okay. Probably can’t be king if you’re an omega, so something like that?” He shrugs but that’s good enough for Fiona.   
  
Fiona moves to sit down on the bench and motions for Mickey to sit next to her. He does. “Why are you telling me?”  
  
“I need a wife. And an heir. We have a… plan. We get married but it’s just papers and shit. You’d really be my brother’s mate and the kid would really be my brothers. I got six months to find someone and you seem like my best bet.” Mickey stares down at his hands and picks at his thumbnail.   
  
Fiona sits back and looks up at the sky, “You talked to me for like five fucking minutes.” She says. Mickey looks at her and shrugs. She smiles at him. “Okay. I’ll do it.” She stands up.   
  
“Wait, what?” He scrambles up to his feet and he’s realizing the alcohol is making him clumsy. She reaches out and steadies him.   
  
“I’ll come stay with you for a few months. I need to meet your brother before I agree to marry you anyway. Ian will have to stay, he’s my Watch, but I won’t tell him. I’m sorry, Mickey.” She says. Mickey’s never wanted a big sister before but maybe he’s been missing out.

 

* * *

 

Fiona and Ian move in the next week. The first “date” Mickey and Fiona go on just includes them walking around the garden with Ian awkwardly walking a few paces behind them.  
  
“How’d you know?” Mickey asks.   
  
Fiona knows exactly what he’s talking about it seems because she sighs a little, “We have a little sister, Debbie, who’s an omega. But… well, our dad is kinda crazy. So we put her on suppressants. She smells like you do.”   
  
“Then…” He doesn’t want to ask that stupid question. He just sighs. It’s times like these he misses smoking. His sister had caught him once when he was seventeen and made him promise to quit, saying Dad would kill him if he ever found out. Smoking was for peasants.    
  
Fiona shrugs, “He’s an idiot.” She says. Mickey doesn’t want to know how she knows what he’s thinking. She just smiles at him. Mickey chews the inside of his cheek and looks away.   
  
“Jaime keeps askin ‘bout you.” He says instead. Fiona looks at him. “My brother. He’s the one you’re gonna fuck if we, ya know.”   
  
She flushes in the slightest bit, “Oh. Is he hot?” She asks him and Mickey is glad he doesn’t have a wet mouth so there’s not spit for him to choke on.   
  
“The fuck? Why would I-?” She laughs at his discomfort and Mickey shakes his head, swiping his mouth with his thumb. “Fuck you.” He says.  
  
She laughs and if she were Mandy, Mickey would shove her. “But really, is he hot?” Mickey rolls his eyes. “Well if he’s ugly I’d rather know now so I can get the fuck out, right?” She says and Mickey can’t tell if she’s being serious.   
  
“I think it’d be kinda fuckin weird if I said my brother is hot.” She laughs again and shrugs. “I dunno man, I can’t say one way or the other.” Mickey says and Fiona just nods.  
  
It actually doesn’t take long for Fiona and Jaime to meet. Two days after their first date, Jaime has become so annoying that Mickey finally caves and drags him along to his and Fiona’s next meeting. Ian seems uncomfortable at what he assumes to be two alphas with his sister but he still stays a couple paces behind them. Fiona and Jaime hit it off, laughing and joking with each other. Mickey feels awkward and out of place but it has to happen, he knows.   
  
They start having their dates inside. Mickey is paranoid, he knows, but he’s terrified of someone seeing the three of them—really just Jaime and Fiona because they couldn’t be more obvious. Mickey thinks everything is going great. For weeks they meet inside around the castle and Jaime and Fiona really seem to be getting along and Mickey even stops thinking about Ian before he falls asleep.  
  
Until it isn’t. Mickey is walking from the throne room to the dining room alone for the first time in a long time. His brothers are all out getting booze for the long weekend and Mandy is probably waiting for him at the table. He likes the silence.  
  
But then he’s pushed against the wall, Ian Gallagher’s forearm across his chest, trapping him, and Ian Gallagher’s stupid face glaring at him. The guy hasn’t said a word to him since the night of the ball and Mickey’s forgotten what his voice sounds like.   
  
“What the fuck?” He sputters and tries to shove Ian off.   
  
Ian reinforces the hold he has over Mickey and he wonders for a terrifying second if Ian has figured him out. “I should be asking you the same thing. Why the fuck is your brother hanging around Fiona?” Mickey turns his head to the right, hoping to see someone coming to save him from Ian and Ian’s alpha scent and Ian’s alpha body.  
  
He tries to shove him again, “Fuck off, Gallagher, you don’t know shit.”   
  
Ian presses him harder and harder against the wall until his shoulder blades ache. “You gonna tag team her? Share her? Pass her around?”   
  
Mickey struggles again and Ian increases the pressure making Mickey’s bones practically grind against the fucking wall. He glares up at him, definitely not appreciating the height difference. “I can’t fuck her.” He shoots back and Ian doesn’t seem to know what to make of that.   
  
“What?”   
  
“I can’t fuck her, shithead, I’m an omega!” Ian backs up and stares at him. Mickey feels like he can breathe again but it doesn’t last long. Ian is invading his space only seconds later. “What the-” Ian sticks his nose against Mickey’s neck and Mickey tenses. He’s never been this close to an alpha before. He’s terrified. If he’s caught he’ll be killed. Ian probably would be too.  
  
“Get the fuck off me Red.” He shoves Ian and this time Ian moves. He stares at Mickey. Mickey stares back at him.   
  
“What.” It isn’t a question, which is weird because it’s a question word. “You’re a… an omega.” Mickey nods. “So why are we here?” He asks.  
  
“Cause I…” Mickey looks down the hall to make sure it’s still empty, “my family will be exiled, probably executed now that I’m king, for me being an omega. So I have ta marry an omega and pretend to impregnate her and all that shit. But since I can’t do that Jaime,” The look of confusion makes Mickey clarify, “my brother, has to mate whoever it is.”   
  
“Fiona knows?” But Ian seems to already know the answer.   
  
Mickey rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, “Of course Fiona knows.”   
  
Ian nods, “Okay.” And he walks away. Mickey stares at his retreating back, mouth dropped open.   
  
“Gallagher!” He calls after him. Ian turns around and looks at him, “Don’t… don’t tell anyone.”   
  
Ian smiles at him and it’s the first time he’s ever smiled at Mickey. It makes Mickey sick with dread as heat fills his stomach, “Who would I tell?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far THANK YOU! I hope you enjoyed and if you did please leave a kudo or a comment if you feel so inclined. A quick reminder if you're new to me: I accept any prompt on my [tumblr](https://guessiliedinthehook.tumblr.com/) for my other [series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/128328) or perhaps this one in the future. Also please feel free to give me a follow or leave me a message. I promise I just suffer from crippling anxiety and I would really love to make some friends in this fandom :)  
> The update schedule for this fic is currently going to be every other Tuesday. We'll see if college actually allows for that kind of schedule but I'll be sure to keep you updated on my tumblr should something change.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you all for the kind words and kudos and bookmarks and everything! Here's the next chapter! Go ahead and leave me a comment if you feel like it.   
> Huge thanks to my betas  
> [Jack](https://miilkovichh.tumblr.com/)  
> [Mican](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mican/pseuds/Mican)

A month passes and Fiona and Ian have to go back home for Debbie’s birthday. The trip feels long and Fiona gets seasick along the way. Ian cares for her, staying with her at night and emptying out the bucket when it becomes too full or too smelly.   
  
Ian won’t admit it but it makes him scared. He fears Fiona will die on the way home, leaving him and his siblings alone. Even worse, Ian’s afraid he’ll never see Mickey again. Which is selfish and disgusting when faced with the possibility of his sister’s death but he really fears it.   
  
He’s shoveling clothes into a large deerskin knapsack when Lip comes into his room, smoking a joint. He flops down on Ian’s bed and crosses an arm under his head, “So, how’s Ukraine?”   
  
Ian sighs dreamily and looks out the window, “I think I’m in love, Lip.”   
  
Lip laughs and takes a long drag of his joint before responding, “Ian you’re always in love. Jesus, what was it? The new omega in the kitchen before you left? You fuckin scoundrel. Who is it this time?”  
  
Ian sends him a half-hearted glare but sits down next him and swipes his joint. After inhaling, Ian says, “The king. God, he’s so-”  
  
“Are you fucking kidding?” Lip sits up straight, staring at him like he’s lost his mind, “Like, the guy Fiona’s gonna marry? What the hell is wrong with you, man? You can’t fuck him! For one, you’d screw everything up for Fi. Another thing, he’s an alpha. What are you a faggot now?” Lip shakes his head and takes his joint back. “No. Don’t ruin Fiona’s chance out of here.” With that, Lip stands up and storms out.   
  
Ian stares after him and feels his heart in his throat. He was careless just then. Licking his lips, Ian looks down at his knapsack on the edge of the bed and pulls it to him.   
  
It only takes an hour, give or take, for Fiona to come into his room. She looks better than she had on the ship, which is a relief. Debbie’s party is the next day but Ian is already itching to get back. She stops at his doorway and knocks, “Hey, can I come in?” Ian nods. She sits next to him on his bed and he looks down at his hands guiltily, knowing Lip told her.   
  
“Guess you heard, huh?”  
  
She nods. “So, Mickey?” She tries, with a grin and he smiles at her. “I should’ve known. You always fall for the most inconvenient omegas, you shit.” Fiona ruffles his hair and he shoves her off of him, laughing.  
  
“Okay, fuck off. He’s just … I don’t know. Different, I guess.” Ian shrugs.   
  
“Yeah?” She asks, teasing him. “You barely even know him, how’re you in love?”  
  
Ian looks back down at his lap. “It’s just him … The way his face looks when he laughs, the way he smells when he’s completely at ease, the way he can act so much like an alpha and yet still be an omega.” Ian shakes his head. That isn’t even the half of it.   
  
Ian spends his time watching Mickey now. When he “takes” Fiona on dates, when Ian should be watching his sister, he obsessively stares at Mickey. The realization that he was in love happened a week before they had left. Fiona and Jaime were talking, and Mickey looked so lonely, so excluded. But he was beautiful in that moment. The moment when part of his wall fell away and he looked like an actual omega, reminding Ian of his biology. Ian wanted to jump across the room and pin him to the wall, kiss him, mark him, claim him. He wanted to assure Mickey that he would never let him be lonely again.  
  
“How’d you find out in the first place?” Fiona asks.   
  
  
“Uh… I kinda…” He’s reluctant to tell her because he knows she’ll be pissed. She’s kind of taken Mickey under her wing and the thought of him literally squeezing it out of him isn’t going to make her happy.   
  
She fixes him with a glare, “Don’t tell me.” She decides and he nods, agreeing. Fiona rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “I’ve never even seen you talk to ’im. I don’t think you’re  _in love_.”   
  
Ian glares and shrugs, “I feel in love. I can’t get his scent outta my head. He’s driving me crazy.”   
  
“How the hell do you know what he smells like?” She demands and Ian realizes his mistake, looking away quickly.   
  
“I may have… scented him…” He mumbles.   
  
Fiona groans, “You’re even worse than Lip.”   
  
Ian throws a pillow at her, “That’s fucking cruel.”   
  
She laughs.

* * *

 

When they return, Mickey and Fiona have more “dates” than they had before. Ian watches from the couch as Jaime and Fiona flirt and Mickey stands awkwardly to the side. It makes Ian sad. He feels bad for Mickey, forced to marry another omega and pretend to be in love the rest of his life, never getting to experience a true bond of his own.   
  
Ian walks into the large gathering room where he and Fiona are meeting the other men. He takes his familiar seat on the white couch and crosses his arms as Fiona wanders aimlessly in front of him.   
  
“Good afternoon.” Fiona whirls around to stare at Jaime as he and Mickey come into the room. Mickey closes the doors behind them and turns, seeming like he wants to rejoin his brother, but takes a seat next to Ian instead.   
  
During this confusing time, Ian has done his best to keep an eye on Fiona and Jaime. He tries, usually unsuccessfully, to stay focused on the task at hand and not let his eyes wander to Mickey. He tries to watch and assess for threats but the second Mickey sits next to him, the second Ian can feel his body heat, the second Ian can sense his presence, Ian’s eyes leave Fiona without a thought. He stares at Mickey’s profile and takes him in.   
  
“Hi,” He breathes because there is nothing left he can do.   
  
Mickey looks at him, “Hi.” He doesn’t smile but Ian can see the amusement in his eyes. God, he’s in love.   
  
“What are you doing?” Ian asks and Mickey’s eyes narrow. “I just… you usually hang out with Fiona and your brother.”  
  
Mickey licks his bottom lip, “They’re so fuckin into each other they don’t even bother to talk to me. I figured we could at least be ignored together.”   
  
Ian’s chest warms with pleasure. The idea that Mickey would rather be with him is foreign and stupid but he loves it. He loves that Mickey wants him, even if it’s just as a distraction. He smiles, “That’s really thoughtful.”  
  
Mickey’s face twists, his nose wrinkles and his mouth puckers like he’s eaten something sour, “Don’t make it a thing.”  
  
Ian’s smile morphs into a shit-eating grin, “You’re the one who made it a thing.” Mickey glares at him and turns away. Ian bites the inside of his cheek. “So, how did you end up becoming king anyway? You have, like, a million siblings.”   
  
Mickey glances at him over his shoulder. Ian can hear the sharp intake of breath but Mickey stays silent. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Uh… once my brothers presented as alphas they joined The Guard. Jaime and Iggy were knights before I turned ten, Joey was a knight before I presented. Colin was in the process of being knighted when I presented but at that point Terry already planned on making me king.”   
  
Ian licks his bottom lip. So his brothers were all knights before anyone knew he was an omega. “That still doesn’t explain why your dad made you king instead of them.” Ian says.   
  
Mickey glares at him and the cushions rustle as he rearranges himself on the couch, “They’re stupid, okay? Is that what you want me to fuckin say? That my brothers are too fucked in the head to run a country? Terry didn’t trust them not to ruin the kingdom he was  _so proud of_.” The scowl on Mickey’s face tells Ian he’s treading in dangerous waters.   
  
Ian can’t control the wave of pheromones that escapes him at Mickey’s obvious distress. “Your dad obviously thought highly of you.” He says and reaches out to touch Mickey.  
  
In hindsight, Ian should have known better than to push it. In an instant, Ian’s face is pressed into the back of the couch, his arm twisted around his back. “Touch me again and I’ll rip your fucking arm off.” Ian can’t see anything, his eyes squeezed shut, and the only thing he can smell is the musty scent of the couch. But Ian can sense Jaime at Mickey’s side the instant he arrives.   
  
Already so in-tune with Mickey’s scent, he can smell the slight change as the distress disappears. His own body relaxes in response. “There a problem here?” The pressure forcing him into the couch eases and Ian gets his arm back. He moves slowly—he learned his lesson on surprising Mickey—until he’s sitting back down. Jaime is glowering at him and Ian realizes he’d almost forgotten Jaime is as much Mickey’s Watch and he is Fiona’s.   
  
Ian smiles and shakes his head, “No problem.”   
  
Jaime narrows his eyes but nods at Mickey, “Let’s go. You’ve got that thing.” He looks at Mickey meaningfully and Mickey nods jerkily, standing.   
  
“See you tomorrow, Fiona.” Mickey says to his sister as they depart and Ian can’t help watching Mickey’s ass as he walks away.  
  
As soon as they’re gone, Fiona sits down next to Ian and whacks him on the back of the head. “Ow,” He grumbles, arm flinging up to cover the afflicted area.   
  
She glares at him, “Fuck off.” She tells him.  
  
Ian smiles innocently, “I have no idea what you mean.”   
  
She raises her hand threateningly and Ian quickly backtracks, raising his hands in surrender. “Leave Mickey alone. You’re going to make things worse for yourself if you keep trying shit like that.” She tells him and Ian just shrugs.

* * *

 

Since Ian is only at the castle to keep an eye on Fiona, he spends most of his days wandering the part of the castle he’s allowed to be in. Fiona has been put up in a guest room close to Mickey’s own chamber—at first it made Ian uneasy but now he knows the halls are masked with a scent-altering agent—which means Ian stays in the servants’ hall. He has access to their small kitchenette and the common bathroom while Fiona has access to personal chefs and private spas. He’s not bitter, really.   
  
Ian isn’t sure what Fiona gets up to while he’s not around, but they make sure to walk the gardens together once a day. When he isn’t with Fiona, Ian basically stalks Mickey. He “wanders” the castle halls while really searching out Mickey’s scent. It’s hard, since the walls of the castle have been modified to mask his scent, but after scenting him, the smallest whiff of Mickey is all Ian needs.   
  
After the Touching Incident, as Ian has taken to calling it, he finds himself wandering down a long, outdoor corridor. He’s not sure where it leads or even how he found himself there, but the sun is so warm and the breeze so cool.   
  
The walking gives Ian a chance to actually think about what happened earlier. Sure, he shouldn’t have tried to touch Mickey, but he was so distressed! His scent was clogging Ian’s nose and his mind. He just wanted him to relax. He wanted him to smell sweet again, not so sour and scared.   
  
Ian is so deep in thought he doesn’t realize he’s accidentally stumbled into Mickey until it’s too late. “Gallagher?”   
  
Ian’s pulled out of his mind when his chest collides with someone’s hands. Ian looks down and sees Mickey glaring up at him. “Oh!” He exclaims.  
  
“The fuck is this?”   
  
Ian glances around, “What do you mean?”  
  
“How the fuck did you get out here?” Mickey demands and Ian is at a loss. He imagines he looks like a fish, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something to say. “Never mind. Just… get outta here.” He shoves Ian a little and he realizes why his chest felt like it was on fire—Mickey never removed his hands.  
  
“Uh, wait!” Ian calls and grabs Mickey’s wrist without thinking. Mickey is quick to yank it out of his grip and Ian backtracks, “Oh God, I’m sorry. That wasn’t… I just… I wanted to apologize. For earlier.” Mickey’s expression hasn’t changed and Ian realizes he’s not getting anywhere, “Shit. Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve forced myself on you like that…” He trails off when Mickey shakes his head.   
  
“Red, shut the hell up, would ya? I can take care of myself. And I did, if you remember. You just need to go back to wherever the hell you came from and leave me alone, okay?” Mickey is already leaving and Ian wants to scream.   
  
He looks around helplessly before he grabs Mickey’s wrist again. Mickey is reeling, his arm already up to pummel Ian into the ground. Ian grabs that arm too. “Mickey.” He says insistently. “Please.”   
  
Mickey meets his eyes and Ian can feel need thrumming through his veins. Mickey is glaring at him, angry he’s being held Ian imagines, “What, Ian? What the fuck do you want?”   
  
Ian doesn’t say it because Mickey will punch him, kill him, and probably behead him for such behavior. So Ian just looks at him, pleads with him to understand, prays to God that he will know exactly what he wants. Mickey starts to struggle against his hold and Ian lets him go. Mickey stands there for a second, staring at him,  _glaring_  at him, before he runs off down the hall.   
  
Ian is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

* * *

 

The next day Ian sleeps until he’s supposed to meet Fiona for her date. He wakes with a stiff neck and fuzzy vision. He groggily climbs from the bed and gets dressed in a casual white shirt and black trousers.   
  
His mouth tastes like death but he doesn’t have time to take care of that right now. He leaves with fervor, the sun already higher in the sky than he should have allowed it to get.  
  
“Ian, you’re late.” Fiona states as he bursts into her room, arms crossed in typical Disappointed Fiona fashion.  
  
He smiles apologetically, “Sorry. Overslept.”  
  
She raises her eyebrows but she doesn’t say anything as she moves around the room, collecting her things. When she’s ready Ian escorts her down to the lounging room where Mickey wanted to meet today.   
  
Mickey and Jaime are sitting at a small glass table when they get there, a deck of cards between them. Jaime looks up first, smile wide, “Fiona, you look as beautiful as ever.” His sister smiles back and Ian can see the tension leave her body.  
  
Ian glances over at Mickey as Jaime stands and leads Fiona to a couch in the corner of the room. Ian wants to sit down, wants to talk to him again, but he knows that would be pushing it. But Ian wouldn’t be Ian if he didn’t test the limits.   
  
He sits and watches as Mickey collects the cards. He stays silent, willing Mickey to say something to him. Mickey doesn’t even look up. He does his best to catch Mickey’s eye, wondering if he’s still pissed about yesterday. “Uh,” He starts, and finally Mickey looks up at him, “I just wanted to… apologize, again, for yesterday.”   
  
Everything is impossibly still, Mickey’s hands freezing in midair as he pushes the cards back into their box. Mickey’s eyes bore into his and Ian thinks he detects a change in Mickey’s scent. “Thought we already had this conversation.” He says finally and Ian feels like he can breathe again.   
  
He presses his lips tightly together, willing himself to play it cool. “Yeah. Uh,” He isn’t sure what else to say. Mickey raises an eyebrow. Shit, he thinks. “Just, um, meant the second part of yesterday too.”   
  
“Man you gotta stop with this shit.” Mickey sets the card box down on the table and stands. “Stop fuckin apologizing and shit.”   
  
Ian nods mutely and stands as well, unsure of what they’re doing. Mickey motions to the couch with his chin and Ian follows him the three steps it takes to sit down once again. He watches as Mickey pulls his legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged.   
  
The awkward silence stays put as they watch Fiona and Jaime flirt and laugh. Ian starts grinding his teeth together and chewing on his cheek. “So…” Mickey looks over at him, already on alert, “in the hallway… you said you gotta marry Fiona… but uh… does that mean you’ve never, um, ya know, fucked anyone?”   
  
Mickey looks like he’s ready to explode. His eyes are stuck on Ian’s, bulging at the question, and his body seems to be vibrating. “What _the fuck_ is wrong with you?” He asks slowly, like he’s talking to an imbecile.   
  
Ian glances nervously at Jaime who is still enthralled with his sister, “Nothing… I just… I guess I was asking if you gotta mate?”   
  
Mickey blinks at him slowly, “You really like makin shit hard for yourself. You want me ta kill you?” Ian shakes his head. “Then do me a favor and shut your fuckin mouth, huh?”   
  
“Um,” Mickey shoots him a look. Ian snaps his mouth shut.  
  
Silence stretches over them again and Ian is desperate to redeem himself. “Must be hard being king.” He muses and Mickey looks at him again.   
  
“You wanna chitchat? It ain’t much different from being a Duke.” Mickey shakes his head but that seems more to himself than at Ian.   
  
Ian shrugs, “Wouldn’t know. Fiona’s the only Duchess around. My father was the Duke and when he died the title went to Fi.”   
  
Mickey rolls his eyes, “Still live like a Duke though. Still gettin all the same privileges an’ shit.”   
  
Ian shrugs again, “I guess. I dunno.” Mickey scoffs at him which tells Ian he should try again. “Um, I mean. Yeah I get the same stuff but she’s still in charge.”   
  
“Who you think’s gonna be in charge when she ends her ass up here, Queen of Ukraine?”  
  
“Lip. Phillip. My brother.” Mickey looks surprised and brings his hand up to swipe his lip with his thumb. “He’s the second oldest so by tradition it should pass down to him.” Ian says.  
  
“Didn’t know there were more of ya.” Mickey states, looking anywhere but him.  
  
“Uh, yeah. There are six of us.” Ian’s surprised Fiona hasn’t talked his ear off about the rest of their siblings. He can tell she misses them. Sometimes, after dinner, they will sit together in Fiona’s room and write letters back home.   
  
“Six?” Mickey’s eyebrows jump practically to his hairline. Ian smiles and nods. “Jesus, you Catholic over there?” He asks. Ian nods again. Mickey rubs a hand down his face, “Christ.”   
  
Ian shrugs, “It isn’t that bad. We love each other. The house is packed but we love each other.” Mickey laughs. Ian watches as his eyes close and his chest shakes with the effort. He cracks a smile.   
  
Ian can’t imagine being Mickey. The idea of never being able to fuck is crazy to him. He can’t imagine having to hide every day, that feeling of panic, like he’s going to get caught. He can’t imagine being afraid of death simply for how he’s born. “Must be hard… being King.” He mumbles.   
  
Mickey looks at him and shrugs a shoulder in nonchalance, “Haven’t been King very long. So far it ain’t been that hard.”   
  
“Mickey,” Jaime calls his attention as he and Fiona approach. “We need to get to your council meeting.”   
  
Mickey sighs and stands up, “See ya around Gallagher.” Ian isn’t sure, but he thinks that was meant just for him.

* * *

 

The next morning, Ian has nothing to do so he wanders around the castle again. He knows last time didn’t end well but he can’t help himself. The halls are long and  _gray_. So fucking gray. Ian glares at the bricks as he walks by and wills them to suddenly turn colorful.   
  
The castle is so dark and monochromatic. Blacks and grays are the only colors Ian can find. The portraits are in black and white, the walls are gray, the ceilings are off-white, and even the  _sky_  is gray most of the time. It’s depressing Ian, making him feel low even though he knows the medicines and elixirs he collected from physician are good for another two months.   
  
Ian looks to his left as he passes the lounge—the room he and Fiona always meet the Milkoviches for dates—when he sees something that makes him feel even worse. Mickey Milkovich is sitting on the couch—the very couch he’d had his face shoved into—next to some huge, buff  _alpha_  and he’s laughing. He’s fucking laughing. Of all the things in the world the omega Ian was lusting after could do, this was certainly not one of them.   
  
Ian bites his lip. He knows this is a bad idea—his fists are clenched and he’s emitting angry, possessive pheromones—but he still goes in. Ian crosses his arms, chin jutting out as he approaches them, and glares down at Mickey. “What are you guys doing?” Ian asks— _demands_.   
  
Mickey and the alpha look up at him. Mickey doesn’t respond, just raises an eyebrow, but the alpha isn’t nearly as smart. It makes Ian’s alpha very happy to see the omega knows its place, knows better than to tempt fate. “Hey! You must be Fiona’s Watch. I’m Fedir.” The alpha, Fedir, holds out his hand for Ian to shake.   
  
Ian ignores him and stares down at Mickey, “The fuck are you doing?” He demands again, harsher this time.  
  
Mickey crosses his arms over his chest and glares back at him, “The fuck are  _you_  doing?” He shoots back. “How you gonna barge in here like you own the damn place and ask me, the fuckin King, what the hell I’m doing? You better remember your place real quick, Gallagher, or I’ll be forced to remind you.”   
  
Ian reels back, eyes blown in surprise. His alpha wants to grab Mickey and hold him down against the couch, crowd him until there is no space between them. Ian settles for raising his eyebrows, “Excuse me? You want to run that by me one more time or are  _you_  gonna remember  _your_ place?”   
  
With that Mickey is up on his feet, dragging Ian by his bicep out of the room and into the empty hallway. Ian can hear the protests from Fedir still back on the couch. Not that it matters a whole lot once Mickey has him shoved against the brick wall. “You need to keep your fuckin mouth shut. I don’t know what the hell you think this is, but it  _isn’t_. You don’t got any power around here—I couldn’t give two shits if you’re an alpha or not. You don’t get to fuckin barge in to a  _meeting_  and demand to know what I’m doing. We ain’t boyfriend and girlfriend here. We ain’t shit, Gallagher. So next time you feel like flaunting your alpha hormones and stinkin up the fuckin place, find. Someone. Else. I ain’t nobody’s bitch.”   
  
With that, Mickey turns and stalks back into the lounge, anger rolling off him in waves. Ian has to adjust himself before he can even move.

* * *

 

That night, Fiona drops by to visit him in his room. She knocks on the door twice before Ian calls an “it’s open!” and she lets herself in. He’s surprised to see her—usually they plan on seeing each other instead of dropping in on each other unannounced. He’s in the middle of removing his boots when she sits down on his bed, an unintelligible look on her face.   
  
He plops down next to her, “What is it?” He asks, concerned.   
  
Fiona wets her lips, “I, uh, I’m gettin married.”   
  
Ian’s eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out what she’s trying to say. He knows that.  _She_  knows that. It’s the whole reason they’re staying here—so she can get married. “Um… yeah, Fi.”   
  
She shoots him a withering look, “Fuck off. I mean that Mickey asked me to marry him.”  
  
Ian’s breath is loud and deep and whistles through his nose. “Oh…” He isn’t sure why it upsets him. He knew this would happen when they were asked to stay. And besides, it isn’t like Mickey is  _actually_  marrying his sister. It’s just a piece of paper. “Okay, that’s great, right?”   
  
She shrugs, “Yeah of course. Just means I’m going to be Queen, I’m going to be leaving you all.” Ian hasn’t thought of it like that. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited. I just don’t want to fuck this up, you know? I’m just a Duchess. What if I’m not cut out to be Queen?”   
  
Ian shakes his head and reached out to soothingly rub her back, “Fiona, of course you’re cut out to be Queen. Mickey wouldn’t choose you if he didn’t think you were.” He says that and he believes it. Of course Fiona can do it, she can do anything she puts her mind to. But for some reason Ian feels like Fiona becoming Queen signals the end of his chance with Mickey. Not that he  _had_  a chance with Mickey… it just feels more real this way, he supposes.   
  
Fiona smiles at him and takes a deep breath, straightening out her back, “What about you? You obviously haven’t made any progress with Mickey.”  
  
He glares at her without any real heat, “What  _about_  me? He’s never going to…” He trails off and sighs, staring at the wall. He doesn’t want to say it out loud because that makes it real. He doesn’t want to say that Mickey has made it pretty fucking clear that he isn’t welcoming any advances—whether it’s Ian or not.   
  
Fiona sighs too and reaches out, pulling him into a bear hug, his head buried in her chest, “Have you even tried courting him? Doesn’t fuckin seem like it from where I’m sittin.”   
  
He pulls back, grinning at her like an idiot, “Oh my  _God_ , Fiona you’re a genius!”   
  
She laughs and thumps him on the back, “Fuckin idiot.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://guessiliedinthehook.tumblr.com/) ^.^ I would love if you left me a message so we can be friends.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it isn't Tuesday... I'm sorry. I also know I'm kinda super late?? I don't have any excuse except college is kicking my ass and I didn't want to publish a chapter without having the next one done if you get me. Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos. You have no idea how grateful I am. Much love to you all.  
> Once again a gigantic thank you to my lovely betas who have put up with my radio silence and writer's block [Jack](https://miilkovichh.tumblr.com/) and [Mican.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mican/pseuds/Mican) Nothing done here could be possible without them.

I. Nourishment

“Hey, is that alpha giving you shit?”

Mickey, affronted, looks over at his brother. They’re walking down the corridor to the lounge room where they’re meeting Fiona and Ian when Jaime asks. “The fuck are you talkin about man?” He responds and looks away from him.

Mickey watches his brother from the corner of his eye, alarmed by the unprecedented question. Jaime shrugs, “I dunno. It seems like you’ve been spending more time with Fiona’s Watch and… well he’s seems like he’s coming on pretty strong.”

Mickey in this moment realizes that his brother is more observant than he’s been given credit. “Nah man, it’s fine. He’s… got some weird obsession with me hiding an’ shit but that’s it.”

Jaime shrugs again, “If he gets to be too much just let me know.”

“Fuck off.” He exclaims with a short, breathy laugh.

“No, seriously. If this country wasn’t such a bitch about you being an omega I’d be your Watch. I’m just tryna do my job and shit.”

Mickey had never thought of it like that. He sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth and worries away at it. “Yeah well, this country is a bitch so I can take care of myself, fuck you very much.”

Thankfully, they’re hovering outside of the room, Jaime with his arms crossed and Mickey keeping distance between them. “Just keep it in mind.” Jaime says as he surges forward into the room, his demeanor changing significantly now that he’s laid eyes on Fiona.

Mickey sighs and scratches the back of his neck as he plops down on the couch next to Ian. The effects are immediate. Ian’s scent crowds Mickey, laying siege to his nostrils and body. Mickey relaxes against the cushions and a wave of pheromones spills out of him like a flood. He keeps his eyes forward, careful not to look at Ian or give any indication this embarrassing display is because of him. Ian seems to catch on anyway.

“Hi.” Ian murmurs and Mickey glances at him from the corner of his eye.

“Hey.”

“Um…” Ian shifts awkwardly and Mickey looks at him this time. Ian’s body is tense, knuckles white against an inconspicuous gold box. It’s the first time Mickey has noticed it. Mickey sucks his lip in between his teeth again and begins pulling at the dry, flaking skin. “I… got these for you.” Ian holds out the box for Mickey to see. His eyebrows furrow as he glances between it and Ian’s face.

“The fuck? Why?” He tries to scoff out but his body definitely didn’t get the memo that this is totally inappropriate. He feels warm all over and his asshole makes immediate work on soaking his britches.

Ian’s face is nearly as red as his hair, “I just… it’s to apologize… for the last few days. Fiona and I went into town this morning and I saw this gourmet chocolate stand in the market place. I thought… never mind it’s stupid.” Ian pulls the chocolates back into his lap, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

Mickey reaches out and gingerly takes the box from his hands. What? He’s not going to waste perfectly good chocolate. “Thanks man. Fuckin love this shit, not sure who’s been runnin their mouth, tellin you that shit though.” As Mickey takes a closer look, he realizes he recognizes it. The box. Mickey’s sent servants out to get it for him enough times to know what the gold box means. “The fuck? This is the most expensive shit out there.”

Ian flushes again and brings his hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck, “They told me it was the best.” Yeah, he fucking knows it’s the best. He’s tried every chocolate their kingdom has to offer.

“Yeah, it is.” Mickey wants to finish, to say my favorite but that’s stupid and weak and Ian doesn’t need to know that nugget of information.

Ian grins stupidly at him now, “You’re accepting it, then?”

Mickey scoffs and tries to act nonchalant, “I ain’t gonna let it go to waste.”

Ian’s face flushes for a third time, but it’s from happiness and grinning too wide.

 

* * *

 

Mickey lounges on his throne, legs hanging over the armrest, when Mandy walks in. He’s munching on a sweet chocolate nugget from the golden box resting in his lap as she approaches.

“You’re such a glutton.” She laughs as she tries to swipe one. Mickey quickly snatches the box, holding it out of her reach. “I can’t believe this is what you spend money on.”

“For your information, skank, I didn’t buy these.” He snaps as he licks his fingers clean.

Mandy startles, jolting back to look from him to the box, “Those are your favorite.” She states as if that explains everything.

“So?” He demands.

“So, you shouldn’t steal things.” She insists and takes a step closer to him, crowding him.

“Holy fuck, why do you assume I stole them? They were a gift you dumb bitch.” Mickey tries not to think of the blush that covered Ian’s cheeks as he gave them to him.

This gets Mandy’s attention, “What?” She asks and pushes closer to him so he can smell her demanding pheromones.

“Back up, you smell like the village whore.” He swings his legs so he’s sitting up and uses his free hand to shove her chest.

“Explain. Now… dick breath.” She adds as an afterthought and Mickey scoffs.

“Fiona’s brother, that ginger I was tellin you about? The one that keeps harassin’ me an’ shit?” Mandy nods impatiently, “He gave ‘em to me yesterday as an apology.” Mandy’s face slackens, her jaw pops open, and she stares at Mickey like he’s lost his damn mind. She says as much.

“You’re a fucking idiot. You’ve lost your mind. That’s the only explanation for this.” She says and Mickey just stares blankly at her. He has no idea what she’s talking about. Why is it such a big deal that Ian apologized to him with chocolate?

“It’s not that deep.” He states slowly, gauging her reaction. She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head. “Seriously Mands, he just wanted to apologize.”

She scoffs, “Okay. Anyway, I didn’t come in here to talk about Ian Gallagher.”

“The fuck you want then?”

“We need to talk about how to squash this ongoing feud with Russia.” Oh, boring shit then.

“Yeah, fine. What?”

 

* * *

  
II. Apparel

 

Mickey has no idea why he suggested a date in the gardens. The seasons are changing and Mickey is usually so sensitive to the chill in the air he can hardly stand to be outside. But the council has been giving him shit over hiding his future queen in the confines of the castle. “A good omega loves the outdoors.” One of his advisors had said.

Mickey must be a terrible omega because he hates being outside, especially this deep into fall. He sits on a bench, arms wrapped around himself, fingers digging bruises into his cold skin, as Jaime and Fiona stand next to a rose bush off to his left. Ian is standing beside him, staring down at him in concern.

“Are you alright?” He asks and Mickey hates him. Hates him for asking such a stupid question. Hates him for the warmth that spreads through his body. Hates him for the slick that immediately begins to wet his undergarments and pants.

Mickey shrugs, trying to be nonchalant, “I’m fuckin freezing but sure.”

Ian, the stupid, obnoxious, asshole, immediately begins shrugging out of his coat. Mickey watches dumbly as Ian exposes his bare arms and thin shirt before holding the garment out to him. “Here.”

Mickey wets his lips, “Uh,” Ian sighs, trying to seem irritated, and wraps it around Mickey’s shoulders. Ian’s scent immediately fills his nostrils and Mickey feels like he might drown in it. Ian grins down at him and Mickey feels hot all over.

“Better?” Mickey wants to punch him because yes. He’s no longer cold. In fact, he feels like he’s on fire.

“Yeah… you don’t… you can sit. You don’t gotta fuckin stand around like that.” He says, desperately trying to regain control over the situation.

Ian’s face seems to literally split in two as he sits down next to Mickey. The silence is a little awkward and it makes Mickey hyperaware of the slick in his pants. “So uh, why the fuck doesn’t Fiona got red hair like yours?”

Ian looks at him in surprise before a half-smirk, half-grin makes its way onto his face, “I dunno, I never thought about it.”

“I just thought all you Irish folk had that stupid red hair.” Mickey splutters out and looks away from Ian, away from his stupid crinkly eyes and stupid smile and stupid red cheeks.

Ian shrugs, “My little sister is the only other one with red hair. My youngest brother isn’t even pale.” He tells Mickey.

“Oh.” Ian grins again. Mickey diverts his attention to Ian’s bare arms. They’re turning slightly pink with the wind chill but that’s not what has Mickey interested. Ian is strong. Ian’s arms are big and Mickey thinks Ian could throw him around a little if he really wanted. That shouldn’t make Mickey as wet as it does.

He swallows thickly and licks his bottom lip, his mouth suddenly dry. “You, uh… you cold?” He asks.

Ian looks down at him and Mickey hates their height difference. “No. Hot, actually.”

Yeah, I fuckin know you’re hot, he doesn’t say. Mickey stands abruptly as Jaime and Fiona approach them. Jaime raises an eyebrow at him but Mickey grunts and crosses his arms, telling him they don’t need to talk about it. “We gotta get to your council meeting.” Jaime says and Mickey nods.

“I hope you had fun today, Fiona.” Mickey addresses her for possibly the first time today. She smiles at him and Mickey thinks it’s nothing like Ian’s. He doesn’t say anything to Ian. He also doesn’t realize he’s still wearing his jacket.

As he and Jaime leave, his brother thinks it’s a good idea to talk about it. “What’s going on?” He asks.

“Dunno what the fuck you’re talkin about.” Mickey says, his face setting in a stony expression.

“Yeah you fuckin do.” Jaime says, but he doesn’t push.

 

* * *

  
That evening, Mandy bursts into his room. He’s still wearing Ian’s jacket, he’s even gone as far as to push his nose into the collar as he lays on his bed, when he jolts up and sees his sister staring at him, wide-eyed. “Oh my God.” She mutters as she runs a hand through her hair. Mickey has no idea what she’s flipping out about.

“The fuck is your issue, bitch?” He demands but he thinks he can guess.

“You’re a literal fucking idiot. That’s Ian’s jacket, isn’t it?” He brings a thumb up and itches his eyebrow in frustration. Apparently his silence is answer enough. She shakes her head, “Jesus,” She swears.

“I don’t get what you’re fucking issue is.” He repeats himself as he unknowingly tugs the jacket closer to his body.

She laughs humorlessly, “Of course you don’t. Because the one part of your education you probably needed the most, Dad decided was too obvious.” She shakes her head again.

“What?”

“You’ll see, I guess.” With that she leaves his room as quickly as she entered.

 

* * *

  
III. Shelter

Mickey is smoking. He is standing outside—in the freezing fucking cold, mind you—with a hand-rolled cigarette hanging from his mouth. He’d had one of his aides travel to the market to buy the best quality tobacco he could find. What? Mickey needed a cigarette, God damn it.

He knows if his council were to catch wind of Mickey partaking in such poor—literally, poor—behavior he can’t imagine what kind of retribution he’d face. But it feels so good. Mickey loves the way the smoke fills his lungs and nicotine floods his veins. It’s a welcomed distraction from Ian. All Mickey can think about is Ian—Ian’s scent, Ian’s chocolates, Ian’s jacket, Ian’s strong arms, Ian’s hair, Ian’s grin. Stupid fucking Ian.

And it doesn’t help that it makes him feel like shit. God, if his father were alive to see him right now he’d be dead. And maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s the fact that Mickey would be killed over this… thing with Ian Gallagher, a stupid fucking alpha, that has him so stressed. So guilty.

He’s just stubbed out his cigarette and hid it, rather inconspicuously if you ask him, in a rose bush when Ian fucking Gallagher comes barreling down the pavement.

Of course, the stupid ginger isn’t looking where he’s going so he runs, chest first, into Mickey, sending him backwards onto his ass in the snow. Mickey’s eye twitches as he takes a deep breath. The snow is soaking into his clothes, already sending a chill through his body. He slowly pushes himself to his feet where he comes face to face with a concerned, yet winded, Ian.

“Oh God, are you okay?” He asks, pheromones and scent clogging his nostrils immediately.

Mickey grinds his teeth together, “Geez Gallagher, where the hell are ya going?”

But Ian doesn’t appear to be listening. He’s fussing with Mickey’s clothes, incessantly checking his face as if he’s afraid it might freeze off. “God, we have to get you inside.” At first, Mickey doesn’t understand, but then he looks, like really looks, at Ian’s face. He’s flushed and his nostrils are flared.

Shit.

“Um.” Mickey says as Ian wraps his big hand around Mickey’s wrist and tugs him.

“We’ll go to my room. No one will notice. I’m in the servant quarters, it’s a lot closer anyway.” Mickey follows him mutely, feeling numb. This is it. This is the moment he gets caught. All because he needed a stupid cigarette to help him deal with a stupid Ian Gallagher. He worries his lip between his teeth as he’s towed towards the back entrance into the castle.

Ian’s room is in a long hall that, conveniently, is not scent protected. Mickey can already smell himself. He wants to hate Ian, but this isn’t Ian’s fault. It isn’t Ian’s fault Mickey was born an omega. It isn’t Ian’s fault Mickey is so damn attracted to him. It isn’t Ian’s fault, it’s Mickey’s.

Ian ushers him into his room and quickly locks the door behind him. Mickey would be alarmed if he weren’t already so damn scared of being discovered. “Mickey?” Ian calls to him when Mickey’s obviously stood too still for too long.

He looks up, “What?”

“You need to get undressed. Not like that! Just… your wet clothes are making the smell worse… not that you smell bad. You smell great. But I know you don’t want anyone to know about you and if you stay wet like this then…” Ian trails off when he realizes Mickey’s eyebrows are in his hairline. “I’m rambling. Uh.”

Mickey crushes his smile between his lips as he presses them into a hard line. He begins slowly peeling off his layers of clothes. Mickey thanks God that he had decided against wearing Ian’s jacket today, even if it was just to avoid tainting the smell with smoke. His fingers are clumsy and trip over buttons. Mickey knows it’s because Ian is watching him so intently.

“You, uh, you should take a shower…” Ian trails off as Mickey looks up and meets his gaze. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and Mickey is now incredibly aware of how close they are.

And also aware of how ridiculously small this room is. His fingers freeze over the waistband of his pants as he takes it in. There is a small bed in the corner with an equally small armoire standing next to it. He and Ian haven’t moved away from the door and yet they’re still so close to his bed. Mickey frowns.

“Mickey,” Ian says and Mickey’s gaze returns to his. Ian grins, “Lost you for a second. You gotta shower. I have some shit you can use, it’ll help cover your scent until you get back to your own room.”

Mickey glances down at his discarded shirt on the floor, “You don’t have a bathroom.” He states stupidly and looks back up at Ian’s face.

Ian shrugs, “No, but there’s a bathroom next door. I mean, it’s communal and all but I can keep watch while you…” Mickey notices Ian staring intently at him, eyes raking over every inch of bare skin exposed, as he tugs off his pants.

“What?” He snaps, feeling self-conscious. Yeah, he fucking knows he isn’t as toned as an alpha—soft around his stomach with wide hips and thick thighs—that doesn’t mean Ian has to stare at him like he’s some−

“Sorry. It’s just…” Ian’s face heats and suddenly he’s as red as his hair, “You’re beautiful.”

Mickey’s face softens and his shoulders drop. His mouth parts, hopefully to say something discouraging, but there’s only a sharp breath hissing passed his lips. He sucks his lip into his mouth where his teeth get to work on the dry skin. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling. His body is hot and there’s slick making its way out of his hole already, but his body and mind are rarely in agreement.

“You can’t say shit like that.” He finally decides on and drops his pants to the floor.

Ian’s expression drops for a split second before he’s offering Mickey a tight-lipped smile. “Right. Sorry. I’ll take you to the bathroom.”

Ian turns away from him as soon as the last word leaves his lips. Mickey awkwardly scratches behind his ear and watches the rise and fall of Ian’s shoulders. He curls one hand into a fist, digging his nails into his palm as Ian begins collecting some things.

“Okay, follow me.” He turns around, arms full of bottles and clothes. Mickey nods mutely as they exit the room, Ian looking down each end of the hall to make sure no one was around. They swiftly enter the next room and Mickey is surprised to see what a servant’s bathroom looks like.

His nose wrinkles in disgust. The far wall is lined with protruding knobs and wash bins. The floor beneath them is wet, contributing to the musty stench in the room. They stand there for about a minute before Ian walks across to one of the bins, squatting down to turn the knob, releasing a gush of water.

Mickey follows hesitantly, nervously swiping at his eyebrow with a thumb. “Okay.” Ian begins as he places a few bottles on the floor, “Here are my soaps. I know it’s a little awkward but it will help cover your scent. Also, here’s some clothes.” Ian places neatly folded laundry onto a shelf Mickey hadn’t seen before. “They probably won’t fit that well but they smell like alpha, me, so it’ll help with the scent issue.”

Ian hasn’t looked at Mickey since which makes him feel weird. Guilty. He feels guilty he wants Ian to look at him, wants Ian to think he’s beautiful, wants Ian to want him. He can’t want that. He can’t want Ian. It could get him killed. Worse, it could get his family killed. Stick to the plan, Milkovich, he tells himself.

Ian stands and turns to face Mickey, “Um, well that’s it. I’ll stand outside.” He leaves quickly and Mickey is alone to stare at the gushing water and dirty metal tub.

How do people live like this? He wonders as he slowly steps into the cold water. It stinks and looks like it might be coming from the sewer. “This is fucking awful.” He says aloud and allows himself to sink down to squat/sit. He washes himself with Ian’s soaps quickly. Being in this room, sitting in this tub, Mickey feels guilty his servants are treated this way.

It doesn’t take long for Mickey to clean himself. He’s never allowed hand maids to cleanse him for fear of being discovered. There are no towels in the bathroom which leads Mickey to wonder how on earth they manage to dry themselves. He climbs out of the bath and stands on the floor, completely naked and dripping, looking around for anything he can use to dry his body. He sucks his lip into mouth and decides he’s going to have to stand there until he is dry enough.

Mickey is maybe a minute into waiting when he gets impatient. Huffing, he tugs on Ian’s pants and long shirt, shrouded in his alpha scent. He shuffles over to the door where Ian is standing with his back to him. “You can move now.” He says and Ian jolts, swiveling around to stare at him.

A pleased flush works its way over Ian’s cheeks and he drops his gaze to the left side of Mickey’s neck, “You smell good like this, mixed with my scent.” Ian mutters, obviously forgetting that Mickey clearly said he can’t say that shit.

Mickey shoves him out of the way and marches out to Ian’s room. “Don’t say gay shit like that, I told you already.” Ian trails him and Mickey can hear the heavy sniffs coming from him. He obviously doesn’t care.

“Fuck,” Ian groans as soon as they’re back in his room, crowding Mickey against the door. Mickey instantly reaches up to shove him off.

“Shit Gallagher, get the hell off me.” He grunts, hands flat on Ian’s hard pecs. He unconsciously licks his bottom lip. Ian groans again and drops his head into Mickey’s neck. He noses around, his huffs of breath hot against Mickey, before taking one long swipe with his tongue. “Okay, yeah, that’s enough.” Mickey shoves him harder this time.

Ian either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care because he slides a thigh between his legs. Panic starts to rise in Mickey’s chest as he hardens. The last thing he wants is to encourage Ian. A hand starts sliding under the hem of the shirt, brushing over his abs and sliding up to a nipple. Mickey steels himself against a shudder and shoves one last time, throwing Ian off.

His green eyes are wide and blown—Mickey can recognize lust when he sees it. “God Gallagher! Do you not understand no? I’m not fuckin interested, okay?” With that, Mickey turns and flees.

 

* * *

  
Mickey is a liar. A big, fat, stupid liar. He’s out of breath once he gets to his room—which is pretty fucking far from the servants’ hall if you ask him. He stands with his back pressed against the door, huffing and panicking over the slick that is seeping out of his asshole. He licks his lips and begins to strip out of Ian’s clothes.

Ian’s soft sleep pants are now soaked with Mickey’s scent. He knows he can’t give them back to Ian like this, he might send him into rut. Mickey frowns down at them before dropping the pants to the floor and shucking the shirt as well.

As Mickey stands there naked a sense of urgency takes over him. He can’t let Ian stay here. He has to leave. Ever since Ian got here Mickey has been overwhelmed with desire—sinful desire, his father would say. He’s going to get himself killed. Worse, he’s going to get his family killed. All because he can’t control himself around one stupid alpha.

 

* * *

  
IV. Comfort

A week later and Mickey still refuses to speak to Ian. He sits as far away from him during his and Fiona’s dates. He doesn’t even look at him anymore. He has, however, held onto his clothes. He can’t go back there and give them to him, Ian would force him to talk. And he certainly can’t have a servant take one to him, people would talk.

So instead, every night Mickey pulls them out and breathes them in, searching for Ian’s scent as it fades. It doesn’t help that Mickey practically drowned the pants in his slick.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Iggy raises his eyebrows as he incessantly pokes Mickey.

“Shit, sorry. Spaced out for a second.” He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. “Keep going.”

Joey rolls his eyes. Mickey flips him off. “Jesus,” Jaime mutters as he watches the exchange, “you’re both just a couple-a kids.”

“Yeah fuck you too Jaime.” Mickey flips him off too.

Mandy, who’s sitting next to him, smacks his arm. “Can we get back to business please?”

The boys grumble but Iggy shoots Mandy a grateful smile. “Okay, so. We gotta getsomeone over there to take care of this rebel problem.” Iggy repeats himself for the hundredth time and Mickey slams his head against the table.

“We already know that. Please, for the love of God, can we talk about something else?” He groans and Colin pats his back sympathetically.

“One of us has to go, Mick, so until you pick which one then no, we can’t.” Jaime seems just as irritated with the situation but Mickey really can’t decide. How is he supposed to choose which one of his brothers should be sent to their untimely death?

The situation is tricky. There is a group of male omegas in the south trying to start a revolution over the oppressive laws. They claim to be tired of alphas raping and killing hundreds of them while the monarch does nothing to hinder their abilities. Not only that, but they want equality. They don’t want employers to discriminate against them. They don’t want the monarch to be made up solely of alphas. They want representation and they want it now.

And Mickey gets it. He sympathizes with them and he has a feeling if he wasn’t king, he would be fighting with them. But he has to fight against them. At least in this world.

The omegas have threatened to kill anyone but the King who steps foot into their land. And they haven’t exactly promised not to kill the King. So, his brothers are going in his steed, hoping it will be enough to get them to calm down.

Mickey wants to go, he told his brothers he is willing to go, to talk to them. They said no. Obviously. It would be too risky. “We understand you sympathize with them and you want them to understand that you’re on their side, but you’re going to put yourself in a lot of danger. They will use you and when you’re no longer useful they will throw you away.” Iggy had said when he’d tried to offer to help.

“I’ll go.” Mickey’s eyes dart to Colin. He’s smiling plainly and he seems genuine. Mickey chews his bottom lip because no. Mickey will not be held responsible for Colin’s death. Anyone but Colin, he thinks as Iggy and Jaime seem to consider it.

“That’s a good idea. You’re the closest in age to Mickey and you have the calmest alpha out of all of us.” Jaime says and Iggy nods in agreement.

“Okay, we’ll make arrangements. You leave tonight, Colin, so you need to go prepare for whatever may come.” Iggy smiles at him encouragingly as Colin stands.

“Don’t worry Mick, everything will work out just fine.”

As soon as Colin is out the door Mickey turns a glare toward his older brothers. “Are you guys out of your fucking minds? He’s going to die. Like, his corpse is actually gonna be brought back to us and we’re actually gonna have to bury him.” Mickey growls, his arms wrapped around himself.

Iggy reaches across the table and lays a hand on Mickey’s, “It will be okay. There will be other guards with him. This should quell their anger and Colin will be back before you know it.”

 

* * *

  
As it turns out, Mickey was right. The next week found the Milkovich family standing over a black wood casket, staring at their brother’s rotting corpse. He doesn’t stay to hear what anyone else has to say, just turns on his heel and takes off to his room.

He crumples onto his bed, heels of his hands pressing firmly against his eyes to keep in unwanted tears. His heavy breathing is so loud he doesn’t hear the faint creek of his door being opened. His nose is so stuffed with snot he doesn’t smell the comfort pheromones shrouding him. His body is so tightly coiled he doesn’t feel the dip in the bed.

“Mickey,” Comes the broken whisper and strong arms wrap around his body.

Mickey recognizes Ian’s scent then but he’s still too close to tears and he certainly can’t focus on that right now. Not while he’s trying so hard to be strong.

“Mickey,” Ian’s whisper is insistent and Mickey finally sits up and glares down at him, eyes wet.

“What?” He snaps and Ian sits up too, moving back in to touch him. Mickey doesn’t know why he lets him. He knows why he shouldn’t. He does, though. He lets Ian tug him back down against his chest so they’re—this is so fucking gross—spooning. Ian runs his fingers up and down Mickey’s arms and it’s so stupidly soothing. It hurts. His arms burn and his eyes are leaking all on their own and Mickey wants to die. He wishes he had gone, not Colin. He knew this would happen.

“It’s not your fault.” Ian says into his scalp. His breath is hot and fans his hair. Mickey resents it.

“Yes it is.” He snorts but Ian tightens his grip and Mickey just closes his eyes against Ian’s shirt.

“No it isn’t. He offered to leave. He wanted to go. And it didn’t matter who went, the rebels would have killed them either way. And you can’t die. You’re King. You’re too valuable to lose.”

Mickey scowls and wishes Ian could see. “Shut the fuck up.”

“No, Mickey, this is important. It’s important because you can’t coop yourself up in here. You have a fucking country to run. Get your ass up and get back to your job.” Ian insists.

Mickey’s omega doesn’t want it. It wants to stay here and let Ian comfort him. Let Ian’s alpha pheromones flood his senses and drive him crazy. But Mickey is King. He has a kingdom in disarray over the death of a royal. Mickey has action he has to take, despite wanting to roll over and bare his neck to Ian. Despite wanting to sulk in his own mourning.

Mickey sighs and rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling. “Mickey,” Ian prods.

“Shut up, Firecrotch. Don’t get your panties in a damn twist. I’m goin.”

 

* * *

  
Mickey sits at the head of the table and stares at his council. No one says anything. “Well? You old fucks always have shit to say so start talkin. What are my options?”

They glance between each other awkwardly and Mickey sighs, “Okay, fine. Here’s what Imma do, then. I’m going to call all the subjects to the courtyard where I’m going to address them. I will assure them that the rebels will be held responsible for the murder of my brother. Then, I’m gonna send a small group of knights to capture at least one rebel. When we get ‘im, we’re gonna execute him. Guillotine that bitch for everyone to see. Any objections?”

There is some tittering and then Nikola stands, “Your Grace, I think I speak for everyone when I express my deepest condolences for your loss. I also want to express my pride at seeing you take control. You truly were King in that moment and we all respect you more for it. We support any decision you make on this matter.”

Mickey sits back in his chair and stares at them. He takes a deep breath, “Well,” He chuckles to himself, “I guess this meeting is over.”

Iggy comes to escort his out of the room and back to his own chambers. “We still have stuff we need to talk about.” He mutters as they’re walking down an empty corridor.

Mickey stops and leans against the wall, “What?”

“Well… Colin is… was your night guard. We all are already assigned to other duties when it comes to protecting you. You need someone else. A new… Colin, I guess.” Iggy keeps his eyes trained to the ground but Mickey can see the red rim surrounding them.

He slides his thumb over his bottom lip, “Uh… Gallagher.”

Iggy looks up, shock written all over his face. “She’s going to be Jaime’s mate, what do you mean? And she’s… an omega. She can’t protect you, Mick.”

Mickey shakes his head, “No, the, uh, the other one.”

“Her brother?” Iggy’s eyebrows are now in his hairline.

Mickey shrugs, “He’s the only alpha outside our family who knows what I am. It makes sense. Plus, Fiona might feel better about us getting married and shit if her brother is here.” He chews on his lip while he watches Iggy’s face.

“Okay…” He trails off and seems to think about it, “Okay that makes sense.”

Mickey wasn’t expecting Iggy to give in so easily, “You miss him a lot?”

Iggy snorts and looks back to the ground, “What kinda stupid question is that? ‘Course I miss him. Don’t you miss him?”

Mickey nods, “Every day. He was the closest to me. Well, besides Mandy but Mandy isn’t a dude.”

Iggy nods and starts walking again, prompting Mickey to trail after him, “He was pretty important to all of us.”

“Of course he was.”

 

* * *

  
That night, Mickey lays in his bed and stares at the ceiling in the same way he had earlier. He wonders if there really is a heaven, if Colin is there or if maybe there’s no afterlife after all. Mickey stays like that, starfish in the middle of the bed, for an hour. He can’t sleep. It was never like this when Colin was watching over him. But Ian started tonight. Ian is outside his door.

Mickey likes to think he can smell him and that’s why he can’t sleep. He sits up and glares at the door. Ian is right out there, his omega reminds him. Ian is right there for the taking. But fuck that, Mickey thinks. No. He won’t be giving in to that kind of temptation.

As it turns out, his omega doesn’t actually care what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you noticed, I have tentatively listed this as having six chapters. It may have more but I'm not quite sure right now. I'm shooting for six though. Also, thank you for reading. Please leave kudos/comments/bookmarks should you feel the desire to. I appreciate them all. Also I'm on [tumblr](https://guessiliedinthehook.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or send prompts.


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